


The Pitfalls of Detective Work

by Dafna536



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dafna536/pseuds/Dafna536
Summary: The work in GCPD is hard and full of dangers, but it could be much more complicated, when a certain "King of Gotham" is involved.





	The Pitfalls of Detective Work

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Подводные камни детективной работы](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/328251) by Dafna536. 



> Many thanks to butterfliesandresistance for betaing this fic.

Jim Gordon was quite an observant man. Flair, quick retentive wits, close attention to details made him a brilliant detective. In some issues, though, he was blind. Blind as a bat. He took Cobblepot's frills, smiles, adulation and flattery as some inherent features of his, a natural phenomena of this peculiar man. Harvey's quips and wisecracks concerning Penguin's behavior around Jim were bounced off or ignored. 

A slight feeling of suspicion was germinated one sunny day, when they were sitting on a cafe porch — a short encounter during Jim's lunch break. Jim, distracted by some street noise, averted his eyes from Cobblepot, and suddenly felt Oswald's fingers brushing his own. It could have looked accidental, if only the touch wasn't that prolonged, or as a mere attempt to get his attention back, if only it wasn't so sensual. Jim withdrew his hand momentarily, and cast a wary look at the gangster. Cobblepot flushed a bit, but otherwise remained calm and continued to talk casually, as if nothing happened. Jim, for the sake of his own sanity, chose to think it was an accident.

Perhaps Gordon could have had same sex relationships if it were not for the deeply-seated beliefs he was raised with, that this kind of thing was something grossly ignominious for a decent man. These convictions drew a line he wouldn't overstep even in his imagination. Parents, friends, army fellows, colleagues made him an average homophobic individual, and he had never had a proper chance to overthink his views on the matter. Gordon was always devoted to what he was doing, were it studying, training, army or work. Sex was never a big issue; girls just happened in his life, and where there were no girls, he could always count on his own hands, and that was quite enough for him. Of course, Jim knew that there were other ways to relieve sexual tension; he heard rumors regarding his colleagues and fellow officers, but he was never a part of it, and from his side, it all seemed to be some weird fairytales.

The second time it was at Oswald's club. They were discussing the case — a series of adolescents' deaths by some unknown drug that had hit the city, and made its officials livid and very demanding. Cobblepot was also livid, because of the mess on his territory and he was eager to find those who were guilty to punish them in his own way. Jim just needed names, he wanted to do it by the law, but apparently nobody cared about Jim's wants. He launched into a hot dispute with Penguin, circling over the same arguments over and over again, well aware he was spectacularly losing it — there was no way to make Cobblepot do as told. But Jim was too stubborn to accept it so easily and leave without at least getting on Oswald's nerves. 

Besides, leaving now meant heading back to his lonely apartment with nothing to greet him but white walls and cold pizza in the fridge. He had another hassle with Lee, and though it wasn't a breakup yet — he hoped so — it was close enough for her to take a vacation and fly to Atlanta to visit her sister. As for Oswald, instead of getting angry, he seemed to enjoy this conversation far too much to end it anytime soon. There were long breaks in their dialogue — after all, it was the middle of Cobblepot's workday, he was always busy in the evening — phone calls, clients, business... and Jim. Cobblepot's club provided him free food, drinks — not that he used this privilege often — and what was more important — something to occupy his mind with. So he sat at the counter sipping whiskey, waiting patiently for Penguin to finish another phone call and watching the stage, lost in his own thoughts.

A new girl walked on the stage, and at first Jim didn't realize what caught his eye. He was staring at her for a minute or two, and then it hit him — she looked almost exactly like his school sweetheart. Though the contrast to the fond memories of his youth was stunning — bright, vulgar make-up, short dress, drugged eyes. The picture was quite sad. With the alcohol in his blood and his current foul mood, it brought unpleasant ideas of his own present and future in Gotham to the surface of his mind. He was so absorbed by this existential thoughts, that he hadn't felt the fingers drawing lines on his thigh.

"Jim? James? You haven't heard me, indeed," Cobblepot was grinning, looking rather drunk. Jim rewarded him with a murderous stare, and Oswald took off his hand immediately.

"You know, you can have her, if you want."

"What?"

"The girl on the stage — I couldn't help, but notice the way you were looking at her. One word and she's yours, Jim, if that's what you wish, of course. It's my club, after all. So, girls... well...boys," he smirked, " are always at your service absolutely for free. There are rooms upstairs..." his voice faltered at the sight of Gordon's darkening eyes, and next words came off much less pertly, "I heard you and Leslie are not so well lately..."

The speech was outrageous, the touch as well, but he could have stood it, let it go this time because of his own exhaustion and the witnesses around them. There was no need to confront the man ‒ it was in the nature of Penguin to provoke and overstep the boundaries. But mentioning Lee made Jim's blood boil, and the whiskey surely didn't help the matter. So in the next moment he was on Cobblepot, dragging him from a chair by the lapels of his jacket, snarling.

"How dare you, you son of a... " He wasn't allowed to finish — Penguin's bodyguards pulled Jim off their boss's fragile frame in a flash, and tossed him to the floor. They were well-trained professionals, Cobblepot indulged himself in hiring the best of the best to guard his safety. The times when he was just a freaky umbrella boy were long past gone, and Jim should probably stop forgetting that. He had missed a couple of painful blows before Penguin came to his senses and shouted. "Enough! That's enough! Let him sit."

Gritting his teeth, the disheveled detective climbed back on the chair under the steadfast gazes of the two gorillas. He emptied his glass in one gulp, not trusting himself to look at Cobblepot, eyes burning the counter with silent fury.

"Sorry, James," Penguin wasn't sorry at all, judging by the cold arrogance of his tone, "but I'm not in the position to tolerate these emotional outbursts of yours. I assume you were going to say something."

"I don't need your whores, Penguin," Jim spat. "My private life is none of your business. And a warning — next time you touch me, I'll break your hand."

Cobblepot grimaced, disappointment, anger and some unreadable mixture of suppressed emotions on his face.

"I merely wanted you to enjoy the evening, James," he stated. "I still have that preposterous belief that we are friends. But if you insist..." He got off the chair and gestured for his bodyguards. "Please, show detective Gordon the way out, I don't trust him to find it by himself."

Without another word he left. In a minute or so, he was already chatting happily to one of the guests. Jim hadn't seen that, he was politely thrown out of the club.

"Damn fag!" Jim bumped the steering wheel angrily, screwing his eyes up in the lights of upcoming car. 

The psycho was the King of Gotham now — there should have been a queue of people eager to jump into his bed. But no — Cobblepot had chosen to have some unhealthy fixation on him, Harvey was probably right in his assumptions. Would it be easier to have someone disinterested in him in the criminal world? Would there be any favors then? His life was steadily becoming more and more complicated. How could the man know about ups and downs of his private life, Gordon didn't even want to think about. Just the thought of the ways Cobblepot could gather this information made him feel sick to the stomach. The week was downright awful before this evening, now it was tending to be catastrophic — no leads, no information, no Cobblepot to help them. Harvey was going to be positively enraged, and Jim could already feel himself guilty for the next victims. All of it just because he couldn't stand the gangster without snapping at him in the most unprofessional way.

****

To his utmost surprise, there was a black envelope on his desk by the end of the next week with an invitation inside. No note, no phone call, no spoken message of any kind, just Oswald's club logo, date and time - minimalistic by Cobblepot's standards. There was no chance he could refuse it - Cobblepot was his most important and reliable source of information, and the Captain was about to skin them alive - the GCPD had found another two bodies with the same markings. But walking there alone seemed dangerous; he didn't feel threatened by Penguin, he never feared him. Jim was afraid he could easily snap at him again, Cobblepot had that impact on him - always making him lose some of his control, affecting his emotional state. He seemed to know the most devious ways to crawl under his skin. Jim needed his partner more than ever. But Harvey was absolutely unmoved by his pleas.

"Nope. No. I love you, Jimbo, I really do, but I’ll pass this time. Barging into your relationship with Penguin is like locking yourself up in an armory with two drunken monkeys. Thank you very much, but I’d rather go home."

"Harvey!"

"Oh, come on! It's not like he 's going to kill you. It seems like the other way around."

"I can't just go in there and..."

"You can and you will. And if you have a sudden wish to punch him in the face, please, do it after he gets us the information we need. Should have listened to uncle Harvey and shot the little rat when you had the chance."


End file.
